


Vacation Interruptus

by Pennyplainknits



Category: Psych, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennyplainknits/pseuds/Pennyplainknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Synopsis</b> John and Rodney take a vacation to Santa Barbara, but their trip does not got as planned.<br/><b>Notes</b>  Just a little something silly.  Beta by the lovely and speedy <a href="http://me-maneuver.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://me-maneuver.livejournal.com/"><b>me_maneuver</b></a>. Thanks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vacation Interruptus

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** Psych and Stargate:Atlantis are the property of the USA Network and MGM respectively. This is a work of derivative fiction and no infringement is intended

**1998**

Shawn adjusted his visor as he looked around the poker table in the back room of MacNaulty's. The usual crowd, mostly, and none of them much of a challenge. Nana Torres, wearing her lucky poodle earrings. Kaito, back after his big loss last month. Couple of college kids, all brash and loud, half-drunk already, and certain to go out in the first round. Officer Walters from over at 9th Precinct. He had a roll of cash in his inside jacket pocket, had bet heavily last week, more than a beat cop could afford, and Shawn made a mental note to tell his Dad Walters was probably on the take. Bob and Izzy, who'd never missed a game as far back as Shawn could remember.

He knew all their games inside out. All except for the man sitting opposite him. Floppy black hair in his face, five o'clock shadow, and hazel eyes that gave nothing away. With his casual sprawl and faded shirt he could have been any slacker down for the surf, but he'd checked out everyone at the table discreetly for weapons, and chosen the seat that would make for the quickest get away. When he'd shaken hands and introduced himself as Shep, Shawn had felt gun callouses across the palm, and despite the baggy clothes he had the athletic build of someone who needed to be in shape for their job. He wasn't a cop, Shawn could spot them a mile off, and he wasn't a Fed. Military, Shawn thought. And worth keeping an eye on.

"OK Ladies and Gentlemen," the Dealer said, scanning the table to draw everyone's attention. "Ante up." &lt;/i&gt;

 

**2009**

"So hey," John said, putting down the controller, "you doing anything with your leave?"

"No," Rodney said shortly. "I still can't believe they're _forcing_ us to go back to Earth."

"It's the only way to guarantee you'll actually take a break. You need to learn to _relax_," John said, leaning back on his elbows, legs sprawled out on Rodney's bed. Rodney let himself look at him, at the half-indecent spread of his legs and the glint in his eyes. John was a goddamn tease, especially after-

"Hey Rodney, you with me?" John said, jolting Rodney back to awareness.

"I, what?" Rodney said, pulling his mind away from _that_ festival.

"I said, do you want to come with me? Santa Barbara, just us, sun, sand, surf, maybe some," John raised an eyebrow and smirked, "relaxation?"

That was enough, Rodney thought. He'd been frustrated and on the edge for a week now. He had to know.

"Is this you coming on to me?" he asked, bluntly.

John, if possible, sprawled even more, and shot him a look under lowered eyelashes.

"No," he said, voice low. "I'd say the blowjob on PXF-1563 was that, wouldn't you?"

Rodney closed his eyes briefly, remembering John's _mouth_, those perfect lips stretched wide, the little noises he made. He'd been jerking off to the memory for a week, pressing his fingers to the fingertip bruises on his hips and _remembering_. He'd fully intended to pin John to the bed and return the favour directly after the mission, but they'd come in hot and had to spend the night in the infirmary. Then there had been that whole semi-sentient rock thing that had terrorised the city for three days, and then Torren had had croup solidly for 3 nights, and Teyla, wearing her 'don't mess with me face' had recruited them for baby calming duties, and, somehow, the chance had been lost. Rodney would almost have thought he had imagined it. Except. Bruises.

"C'mon," John said, voice persuasive, suddenly right up in Rodney's space.

"OK," Rodney said, leaning down to kiss him. What was the worst that could happen?

 

***

"So, our beach house is right along here," John said, placing a hand on the small of Rodney's back.

Rodney leaned into it slightly, smiling. The sun suited John, who seemed to be a California boy at heart. He was almost visibly unwinding, relaxing, and Rodney could feel himself doing the same. He was really looking forward to finishing what they'd started, repeatedly, and at length. What with packing, the trip through the gate bridge, debrief and the flight to California, they'd only had time for the odd quick grope. Rodney shifted his satchel, copy of Physical Letters shoved into the front pocket, onto his other shoulder and concentrated on negotiating the crowds pressing in on all sides.

"Sorry dude," said a guy, bumping into John. Then,

"Shep? John?"

John stilled beside him,

"Shawn?" he said, slowly.

"Man," the guy, Shawn, Rodney supposed, punched John on the shoulder, grinning. "Where have you been? It's like you just dropped off the face of the earth!"

Rodney looked from John to Shawn and back, and had a sudden feeling of familiarity. Hair artfully messed, check. Uneven yet still oddly attractive features, check. 'Aw shucks' charm, check. Slouchy jeans and hideous plaid shirt, check.

"Sheppard, is there a cloning facility I don't know about in the wilds of California?" he asked, annoyed.

John pulled himself together.

"Rodney, this is Shawn Spencer. Shawn, this is,"

"Rodney McKay, physicist and, oh, Johnny-boy, your latest squeeze? How's that go down in the air force?" Shawn looked Rodney over with those odd light-coloured eyes, and grinned.

"How did you," Rodney began, but Shawn pulled a card from the back pocket of his jeans, and flicked it at John.

"Head Psychic, SBPD," he said. Then, before Rodney could protest, he glanced over Rodney's shoulder.

"Shit, I've got to go, I'm on a case, and my lead suspect is just over there. Give me a call John-boy. HEY! ALICIA THOMPSON!" He called out, then started to run, tossing a wave backward over his shoulder.

"_Psychic_? _John-Boy_?" Rodney asked, incredulously.

"Just an old friend," John reassured him, pulling him in close, "we won't see him again, I promise."

Fate, however, had other ideas.

****

Rodney awoke with a start, certain he'd heard _something_ moving around in the kitchen. He looked across at John, who lay sleeping in an untidy mess of limbs and bedhead, drooling slightly. Rodney's plans for a night of glorious earth-side sex had been derailed by gate-lag, jet-lag, and the 2 bottles of wine they'd had with the admittedly excellent steak. Apparently alcohol hit John a lot quicker when he was tired. Rodney had ended up half carrying John back to the beach house as John crooned off-key Beach Boys songs in his ear. He'd pawed ineffectively at Rodney before collapsing in a heap on the bed and immediately starting to snore.

_snick_ . There it was again. There was definitely something in the house. Rodney slid quietly out of bed and crept to the kitchen.

"Good Morning Sunshine," Shawn said. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, sporting another plaid shirt (yellow) and looking completely at home.

"Do you know you have nothing to eat in this place? No cereal even. What's a vacation without Captain Crunch? Rodney, how am I supposed to do my job on an empty stomach?" He pressed a button on his cell phone and put it down on the counter.

"you-" Rodney began. It was far too early for this.

"Luckily," Shawn continued, "I came prepared." He picked up a bowl. "Pineapple? It's full of vitamin C and Fibre. Oh, by the way, I drank the last of your coffee."

"WHAT?" Rodney shouted.

"Relax Rodney, I sent Gus out for some. He didn't think we should break in here, but I knew you'd welcome us with open arms."

"Gus!?" Rodney barked. He was tired, frustrated, and still a bit hung over and he just could. not. deal. with this before at least one cup of coffee. "Who the hell is Gus?"

"Y'know Rod-can I call you Rod?"

"No!"

"Rod, you really need to relax."

"I'm _trying too!_! I'm here for a vacation with my, with John, for the _express purpose_ of relaxing, but you apparently have other ideas!"

"Rodney, who are you yelling at?"

John's voice floated out from the hallway, still sounding a bit croaky.

"See!" hissed Rodney, "Now look what you've done!"

John shuffled into the kitchen barefoot, wearing pinstripe boxers and an old, stretched-out, San Diego zoo t shirt, hair mashed flat on one side of his head and his eyes still gummy with sleep.

He still looked good enough to jump right there in the middle of the kitchen, Rodney thought.

"Shawn?" John asked. "What the hell?"

"I'm on a case, and the spirits led me here," Shawn said, finishing his pineapple.

"Spirits, right," Rodney snorted.

John slid carefully into the kitchen chair next to Rodney.

"I can see I'm gonna need coffee to get through this," he said.

"Hah! This, this _charlatan_ has drunk it all. You promised me sun, sea and sand Sheppard, not _coffee bandits_!"

"Rodney, rel-"

"Don't tell me to relax! I can't relax without my coffee!" Rodney almost shrieked.

John massaged his temples and Rodney felt immediately contrite.

"Are you alright?" he asked, crouching down and peering into John's bloodshot eyes.

"Just, not really as young as I was," John said, smiling. "Can't seem to hold my drink as well as I used to."

"Well, you've got to factor in the jet lag as well," Rodney said softly.

John snorted and rested his forehead on Rodney's, just staying there for a while.

"Ahh, here's Gus." Shawn's voice broke the mood. "I'll just go let him in." He hurried to the door.

"Hey," John said huskily, raising his head. "Mornin' Rodney." He kissed him, close-mouthed, just saying 'hello'.

"Mmmm, morning," Rodney said happily, kissing him back.

"Any idea why he's here?" John asked.

"Hey, he's you-what is he exactly?"

"Just a friend," John said, yawning and stretching.

"He was just- here-" Rodney broke off as he caught the scent of coffee.

"Oh thank god!" he said, standing and snatching one of the cups out of the hands of the well-dressed Black guy he assumed was Gus, and taking a long gulp, regardless of the heat.

As he lowered the cup he found three pairs of eyes watching him

"What?" he asked.

John sipped his own coffee, looking a little more awake.

"I don't think these guys anticipated the Rodney McKay morning ritual," he said with a small smile.

"Well, if they didn't want to see it, they shouldn't have _broken in and stolen my coffee_," Rodney pointed out.

"Yeah Shawn, what are you and-?" John raised an eyebrow at the Bringer of Coffee.

"G-" he began, but Shawn broke in

"My partner, Augustus Onegin Ramsbothom the Third."

"Shawn! I'm Burton Guster. Pleased to meet you." He set his coffee down on the table to shake hands.

"Thanks for the coffee," Rodney said begrudgingly.

"I told Shawn not to drink it," Gus said, shooting a glare at Shawn, who looked blithely untroubled.

"That still doesn't answer what you're both doing here," John said, looking more annoyed by the second.

"As I was telling your- as I was telling Rod, the spirits led me here," Shawn said, making an extravagant hand gesture.

"Spirits," John said flatly. He leant back into his chair, and Rodney nudged his foot against his bare calf. Even that small touch felt good.

"You know Shawn," John remarked, wrapping his ankle round Rodney's, "I don't remember you being psychic."

"Yes, well I don't remember you going for guys, so I guess we're even."

"I hope you're observational skills are better now, in that case," John smirked.

"Can we skip the thinly-disguised flirting and get down to business?" Rodney asked, as Gus rolled his eyes in agreement.

"There have been a string of robberies in this area," Gus explained. "All from the beach houses, mostly small stuff, but last night the Deputy Mayor's mother in law had her diamonds stolen, and we were called in."

"Called in?" Rodney asked.

"I'm the head psychic detective with the SBPD," Shawn explained. "The Chief doesn't want the publicity to scare away the tourists, so we're doing this on the quiet. The house next to you was burgled last night. Did you see anything?"

"Only pink elephants," John said.

"Well, if you do see anything please let us know. We're sorry to have disturbed you," Gus said, standing and passing over a business card. He moved to shepherd Shawn to the door, but he broke free and said excitedly

"Gus, Gus, John-boy's on vacation. I think we should show him and Rod the sights once we've finished questioning the neighbours."

Rodney thumped his head off the table; all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed with John and finally take him up on all those promises.

"Shawn," John growled, and shit, that was _not_ the kind of sound Rodney should find hot, "Would you like to make a prediction as to what would happen if you don't get out of here in the next 10 seconds?"

"I'm going, I'm going," Shawn said as Gus hustled him out of the door.

As the Toyota pulled out of the driveway Shawn poked his head out of the window and yelled,

"Stay hydrated Rod!" before Gus smacked him upside the head as they drove away.

Despite himself Rodney chuckled. He was full of good coffee (either Shawn really was psychic or Gus had excellent taste,) and he had John, warm and sleep-crumpled and all his to play with.

"Was he always like that?" he asked, standing to look out of the window.

"What, too smart-mouthed for his own good? Yeah."

"How do you know him?" Rodney asked, intrigued.

John slid his arms around him from behind, kissing his neck and grazing his fingers under the waistband of Rodney's boxers.

"You really wanna talk about him now?"

"Hmmmm," Rodney said happily, tipping his head back onto John's shoulder, "maybe not."

"Hmmm, thought not." John kissed up the side of his neck, all soft and wet, while at the same time his hands smoothed across Rodney's hips and dipped down under the waistband of his boxers to loosely encircle his cock.

"John," Rodney gasped.

"Shh, let me," John said, still stroking maddeningly lightly. Rodney interlaced one hand with John's as it gripped his him, and used the other to pull John by the collar of his t shirt into a messy kiss. He could feel John hard against him, and he rocked back against him.

"Y'want me to fuck you Rodney?" John asked huskily, "want me to spread you out, lick you all hot and wet and loose and then fuck you?"

"If you've got nothing better to do," Rodney gasped. He had his pride after all, and he wasn't just going to roll over. They John rubbed his thumb across the head of his cock, and Rodney felt his knees buckle.

"J-" he sighed.

"Didn't quite catch that," John said, untangling their fingers so he could slide his other hand up to Rodney's nipple, and scratch over it lightly.

"Bastard," Rodney gritted out. It hadn't taken John long to figure out what that did to him.

"I could stop?" John said into his neck, nipping the tendon.

"Don't you- FUCK!"

He twisted away from John as he kitchen door opened again and Shawn peered around it. Rodney tugged his boxers back into place, feeling as mortified as that time Jeannie had walked in on him and Ben back in high school.

"Shawn!" John yelled.

"Sorry, forgot my cellphone." Shawn, apparently unperturbed, picked the phone off the counter and slipped it into his pocket.

"As you were," he said, gesturing, and shutting the door behind him.

John sat on the table dejectedly.

"Well, that ruined the mood."

***

"So, you know him pretty well, huh?" Rodney asked, shifting slightly on the warm sand as John worked the sunscreen into his shoulders.

"Know who?" John said.

"Shawn."

"Should I be worried that I've got my hands all over you and all you can think about is Shawn?"

"In case you haven't noticed, he's not the one fondling me in public," Rodney said, but he couldn't summon up much acerbity. After they'd been interrupted John had insisted they get dressed and go to breakfast to take care of the last of his hangover. Rodney was full of bacon and sausage and french toast, warm in the sun, and John's hands were causing little fizzes of arousal all through him.

"I met him about 10 years ago. I was down here on leave, and he kicked my ass at poker."

"He kicked _your_ ass?" Rodney said, sighing happily as John's hand slid down to the small of his back, and back up. John's skill at poker was legendary; the only people crazy enough to play him were Cadman (who was a total shark) and Zelenka, who Rodney knew for a fact counted cards when he thought he could get away with it.

"Yeah. He was this cocky kid, all attitude and he wiped the floor with me." Rodney felt John's hands slip away, then John unfolded his legs and lay down next to him.

"And?" Rodney asked sleepily.

"And I bought him a beer and we got to talking. He told me the best places to surf, I took him pool hustling . Next time I came back he'd taken off for Mexico or somewhere."

"He's like a mini you," Rodney said, grinning.

"Not really, can't see him sticking with the airforce," John said, picking up Rodney's hand and idly playing with his fingers. Rodney forbore to point out that they were basically holding hands.

"He has a problem with authority," John continued.

Rodney had to snort at the hypocrisy. "And you don't?"

"Hey, I _am_ the authority," John said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Yes, yes, you're so commanding and dominant," Rodney said dryly.

"That's me," John smirked. "Now can we stop discussing my slightly shady friends and make out a little?"

"Well, seeing as how you insist," Rodney said, propping himself up on his elbows, and kissing him.

***

Rodney stretched, feeling his vertebrae pop and click back into place. Whatever John had paid for the beach house had been worth it for the bed alone- it was huge and insanely comfortable, and he'd had one of the best night's sleep in years.

They'd spent the day wandering along the sea front, finishing up with seafood at a tiny out of the way restaurant before strolling back to the house and making up for every hurried blowjob and curtailed grope since they'd started this thing between them. His back still twinged- he hadn't been that athletic in bed since his early twenties, but John was one hell of an inspiration.

"Mornin'" John said sleepily, lifting his head from its spot on Rodney's shoulder.

"Hey," Rodney said, tightening his grip on John. John lipped along his collarbone and Rodney slid his hand down his lean back, curving around one cheek and squeezing.

"Y'wanna get breakfast?" John asked, pushing back into the contact.

"How about we work up an appetite first?" Rodney asked, grinning at the feel of John, all warm and loose-limbed, against him.

"How 'bout we do?" John said, kissing him, morning mouth and all.

***

They still had nothing in the house for breakfast, so they found a diner, looking out onto the ocean, that promised 'Santa Barbara's best waffles.'

"What'll it be?" the waitress asked, as she poured them some coffee.

"You have to try the blueberry pancakes, am I right Gus?" Shawn said, appearing as if out of nowhere and spinning a chair up to the table to sit on.

"You know it," Gus said, sitting next to Rodney. "Although I can also recommend the bacon extravaganza."

"Also an excellent choice," Shawn turned John's coffee cup over and held it out for the waitress to fill.

"Shawn, what the hell are you doing?" John asked.

"Having breakfast with my buddy and his best gal," Shawn said.

The waitress cleared her throat,

"You guys want to order or not?"

"We'll have the blueberry pancakes for four, two sides of bacon, one of french toast, a pineapple-mango-banana smoothie and one glass of orange juice."

"No pulp," Gus interjected.

"No orange," John said, beating Rodney to it, "Rodney's allergic.

"Really?" Gus said, turning to Rodney. "You know, my company is a market leader in innovative allergy treatments. Let me give some names to talk to your doctor about."

"I thought you were a detective?" Rodney asked, confused.

"Like the Red Phantom, Gus wears many faces," Shawn said.

"You read the Red Phantom?" Rodney said, pleased to meet fellow fans. "Did you see the film?"

Gus and Shawn both just winced.

"Now, Rod, John," Shawn continued, as the waitress slid plate onto the table, "we need your help."

"No. Absolutely not," Rodney said around a mouthful of pancake. It was, he had to admit, excellent.

"The robberies are all linked. The house next to you on the right was burgled 2 days ago. The one on the left was hit last night. " Shawn took a long drag of his smoothie through the green straw.

"The pattern is always the same. Two days after the tourists arrive they get robbed. There's no sign of a forced entry, and it's always people staying less than three weeks."

"Jules thinks it's because they won't want to waste their vacation dealing with the police," Shawn said, "not if they're not here for long." He cut his pancakes into squares and stole a piece of Gus's bacon; Gus stole it back with a pointed look.

"I'm still not seeing what this has to do with us," Rodney said, beating John to the last of the french toast.

"Because last night, I received a message from beyond the veil," Shawn said dramatically, "and it said that you and John-boy would be next."

"Well, fine," John said, "We'll just stay in tonight. I'm sure me and Rodney could find something to occupy ourselves." Rodney felt John's foot slide up his leg and suddenly wanted breakfast to be _over_.

"One, I don't want to know that. Two, we _need_ you to be burgled."

"I'm sorry," Rodney said slowly, "I could have sworn you said you _wanted_ our vacation to be ruined."

"You're setting a trap," John said, leaning forward and looking interested.

"Exactly," Gus said, looking a bit apologetic. " We set the trap, catch the criminal, and you can spend the rest of your vacation in peace."

"No, no, no John," Rodney said, recognising that look. That look shot him in the leg and tossed him off balconies and souped-up remote control cars with disastrous results.

"C'mon Rodney," John wheedled. "Didn't you ever play cops and robbers when you were a kid?"

"I was too busy setting the world of physics ablaze," Rodney retorted.

"If we let you do this, will you promise to _leave us alone_?" John asked.

"Scout's honour," Shawn said, saluting. "You and Rod can have all the man-sex you want, me'n Gus will disappear."

"Like dust in the wind," Gus confirmed.

"What do you say Rodney?" John asked.

"I'm going to regret this," Rodney sighed.

***

It was John, however, who cracked first. They'd made a big production of going out of the front door, locking it behind them, and strolling off down the street. Then, they'd snuck round into the back yard and crouched behind the bushes to watch. Shawn and Gus where concealed behind the ornate garden furniture, and there was an unmarked squad car containing Jules and someone called Lassie' (Rodney hoped it wasn't a dog) parked down the block. Now all they had to do was wait.

The night was warm and sticky and full of mosquitoes, which all seemed magically attracted to John.

"Why are we doing this again?" John grumbled, splatting yet another bug.

"Because your hero complex apparently spans galaxies," Rodney hissed. "We could be inside now doing all kinds of depraved things to each other, but you had to volunteer us for this!"

He shifted uncomfortably on the hard-packed earth, trying to make out Gus and Shawn in the gloom.

"Keep that in mind," John said, pointing at a shadowy figure slipping into the garden, "because I think this is our thief."

He raised the night vision scope and squinted down it. "I think its a woman," he said, as the figure reached the back door.

"Let me see," said Rodney, taking the scope. "It is, and she's got a key."

Shawn and Gus slipped out from behind the furniture and crept up to the house.

"Come on," John said, fading into the night as he crossed the garden in his tight black sweater and jeans.

Rodney took a few seconds to appreciate the view, then hurried after him.

They padded up to the house and snuck in and up the stairs. Gus and Shawn were flattened to the wall by the bedroom. A flashlight shone in the darkness, swinging round as the thief searched. There was a black satchel leaning against the doorframe, the corner of John's black iPod sticking out of one pocket.

"Tracy! The beach house rental clerk?" Gus said, sounding shocked as Shawn snapped on the light.

"Gus! Shawn! I can explain!"

"Jules, the manatee is in the bay, repeat, the manatee is in the bay," Shawn said into his phone.

"Listen," Tracy pleaded, "it's all a mistake. I was walking past and and I saw the flashlight, so I came to investigate. there was this huge guy here, and he ran off-"

"Wait!" Shawn said, pressing his fingers to his temples, "I'm getting something! Am, Am, Am, Amityville, Amelie, Amores Perros, AMEX! Ohhhh, you stole to pay off your credit cards!" He waved his hand to encompass Tracy from head to toe. "Those Tiffany earring, Cartier watch-

"Manolo heels and," Gus sniffed "Hermès' 24 Faubourg perfume,"

"Nice," Shawn said, grinning at him. "No way did you afford all that on an office worker's salary. You just took the spare keys and helped yourself."

"Not bad," muttered John.

"Quite simple really," Rodney said. "Your iPod's in the pocket of the bag, the lack of break-ins indicate someone with access the to key, and the clerk who handles the bookings was a logical choice."

John just stared.

"What?" he said.

"I thought you said you never played cops and robbers?"

"I read a lot of Sherlock Holmes, when I was young."

"Wouldn't have pegged you as a fan," John said as an attractive blonde Rodney assumed was Jules and a scrawny dark haired guy let themselves in and crept up the stairs.

"What, a towering genius admired by all and sundry yet forced to work with lesser minds?"

"Does that make me your Watson?" John asked.

"You have the right to remain silent," Jules' voice floated out into the hall. John jerked his head and they crept back downstairs and into the kitchen.

"I'm happy to have the faithful sidekick, but I don't think you'd look good with a moustache," Rodney grinned.

"Gentlemen?" Jules said from the doorway. Behind her Tracy was being led away in cuffs. "I'm Detective O'Hara. Thank you so much for your co-operation."

"Our pleasure," John said, shaking her hand.

"Well, we should be out of your hair in a about half an hour. We'll give you a call if we need more information, but the camera should have caught everything. Enjoy the rest of your time in Santa Barbara gentlemen."

They drank coffee as the bedroom was photographed and fingerprinted.

"So," John said, waggling his eyebrows, "Should I look out for the signs of a this Holmes fetish? Deerstalker? Violin?"

"Shut up," Rodney said affably, "it's not a fetish, I'm just a fan."

"Sure? No kinky fantasies involving pipes?"

Rodney leaned forward and twisted his fist into John's (sinfully soft and strokeable) sweater, yanking him forward.

"Only fetish I have involves you, naked, as often as possible," he said against John's lips.

"I can work with that," John said, leaning up, and kissing him, deep, and wet, sliding his arms around him.

Rodney cupped his face in his hands and kissed him again, sliding in between John's parted legs and pressing up against him.

"Ahem," Shawn coughed.

Rodney sprang back

"What?!" he barked.

"We're all done," he gestured. "So we'll just, be on our way. Come on Gus, stop ogling!"

"I was _not_ ogling," Gus protested.

Their bickering faded away as they let themselves out. The door clicked locked behind them.

"So," John said, sliding his hands up under Rodney's shirt. "Ready to work on that fetish some more?"

***

"R'ney," John murmured "Answer the door."

"I don't think I can move," Rodney said, burrowing back under the covers. "I think you wore me out."

"I wore you out?" John said.

Rodney cracked open one eye and squinted at John, taking in the bedhead, the hickeys and the come-matted chest hair. All in all, signs of a good nights work.

" I think we wore each other out."

The doorbell rang again.

"Go on," Rodney said, shoving at John.

He swung his legs out of bed and padded across the room, unable to hide the slight hitch in his walk. Rodney grinned to himself and got up to look out of the window, spotting a very familiar blue Toyota.

"Not again," he groaned.

But there was no sign of annoying chipper pseudo psychics nor calmly competent pharmaceutical reps. Instead, there was just John, holding a gift basket.

"This was on the doorstep," he said.

Rodney opened the Psych compliments card.

"Dear Rod and John-boy. Sorry we ruined your vacation. Hope this helps make up for it. Shawn and Gus."

John took the pineapple off the top. Underneath there was-

"The collected Red Phantom," Rodney said. "This is only just published!" He pulled aside the graphic novel, and found a gift certificate for a meal at a gourmet restaurant.

John held up a double handful of lube packets.

"And some of Gus's samples," he grinned. "Self-warming at that."

Rodney looked up from the comic.

"I knew I liked him for a reason."

John swept the bed clear and pulled back the covers invitingly.

"Wanna try them out?"

"Absolutely, but promise me one thing first," Rodney said, setting the pineapple on the nightstand

"What?" asked John, wriggling out of his boxers in an hypnotic shimmying movement.

"Next time we go on vacation, let's stick to the Pegasus Galaxy?"

"I can manage that," John said, and he pulled Rodney down, and kissed him.

END.


End file.
